Enough
by Felicity G. Silvers
Summary: None of them even knew Loki had been missing from his imprisonment on Asgard when Thor shows up with a shell of a god in his arms. Clint finds himself almost unwillingly starting to feel sympathy for the god as he gets to know him and realizes maybe not everything was as it seems. -complete-
1. Prologue

****I don't own the Avengers or any characters there.

Trigger warning: abuse, torture

This story does not involve smut in any way, shape or form. It's only a little slashy at that, so if you want that, you'll need to go elsewhere. This takes place after the Avengers movie.

**Prologue**

It is dark and silent. Not cold dark, not the way falling from Bifrost had been-_oh an eternity ago_-but dark. Silent. He can hear his breath, ragged and wet but it is better than before. He hopes everything will stay silent. That he is forgotten.

Sound, his traitorous silver tongue, that kind laughter, is pain. There is a slight pinch between his shoulder blades, and sweat stings in the wounds. He isn't sure how long it had been since last time, but time doesn't matter. They will be back.

_Oh Loki Loki Loki, look at you. Tell me, what do you want, little fire starter? Trickster, tell me, what do you want?_

He does not answer. He isn't sure if he is alone or not, but if he is silent they would not beat him, will not heft him up and break him, over and over again until he screams because the pain is too much-and then they will hurt him for breaking the silence more. No no no.

Another drip splashes on his face, his eyes. He is weak. He wants death-_you do not deserve death_-and yet his magic and will fight, try to save his eyes. If he allows it, the acid will burn through, straight through, to his brain, and he will be gone, but he can't escape that voice, that one that reminds him how worthless he is, that golden smile that is filled with pity and kindness and which visits him and he cannot escape, cannot, cannot.

There is a noise and Loki wants to weep. It seems so soon, too soon, surely they'll allow his back to heal a little further, let his shattered leg mend itself poorly before breaking him again. Surely it is not _him_, come to whisper and urge and coax until his tongue betrays him. Hands remove the chains that bind his wrist in place, a cloth presses against his face, dabbing away the venom that sliced and burned and made even his bones ache. The soft sob isn't his, and he is grateful for the moment. Something, he doesn't know what, wraps around him, and it is the softest thing he has felt other than _his_ hands in ages. The being cradles him, lifts him. This is not one of his captors-it smells of lightning and Valhalla's smoke and some lavender perfume he cannot place.

He tries to will his tongue to obey him, to ask for death, but it does not listen. Smell of lightning and they are gone, and he prays they will not put him back together. It will only hurt worse the second time.


	2. Chapter 1

Let's make this a double feature to start off right.

I don't own the Avengers or any characters there.

Trigger warning: abuse, torture

This story does not involve smut in any way, shape or form. It's only a little slashy at that, so if you want that, you'll need to go elsewhere. This takes place after the Avengers movie.

This entire story is already completed and edited. You're looking at another 8 chapters after this, probably one a day.

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**Chapter 1**

All of them heard the thunderstorm that was starting to roll in, but they ignored it in favour of movie night. Thor tended not to be a distant rumble-his storms came on fast or not at all, and so no one thought it was him. Granted, none of them had seen the god all that often lately.

"Why the fuck are we watching Disney movies?" Clint gripped, ignoring the glare that Steve gave him. Natasha smirked a bit, but he sighed and sat down by her anyway. Stark was coming in with the bowls of popcorn ready, one dripping in butter.

"Disney?" the genius asked around a mouthful of popcorn.

"We need something light," Steve said, ever the peacemaker. "It's also my turn, and I want to see this one."

Clint snorted. Bruce just gave one of his half-grins at them, perfectly content with whatever they picked. _Beauty and the Beast_, as it turned out. Well, at least Clint could mock Gaston, who looked a bit like a black haired Thor. He snorted at the idea of any woman who could toss Thor in pig pen.

A bolt of lightning struck down in the room, frying the TV. Stark was sputtering, going on about how he had _just bought that tv Thor why can't you come through the door like a normal person_, and everyone had nearly jumped out of their skins. Natasha had pulled a gun from... somewhere (though loose pajamas were certainly more conducive than some of the things she wore), Steve was on his feet, Bruce looked like he was trying not to have a heart attack and smash all of them. The noise died down a little as they realized Thor was... weeping. Not big sobs, but tears were on his face and he was sniffling a little.

His cloak was ripped off and wrapped around a small form (everything was small next to Thor, except Hulk), and as the silence descended they could make out horribly wet breathing. Clint eased his way back around the couch like he hadn't vaulted over it, smelling blood. His mouth set slightly in a frown, his face otherwise becoming impassive.

"My friends," Thor started, and his voice cracked. The god stood there, breathed in, focused. No one spoke. "My friends, I need your aid. Please." Kicked puppy dogs looked happy next to this.

"What's in your arms, Sparky?"

Thor seemed to hesitate, as if he would ask them for more, but then his trust got the best of him, and he shifted. The breathing-and it was the form in his arms-hitched, but no hiss of pain came out. A rumble outside, but inside all was quiet, staring at the black hair, sharp-boned face they knew even without its crazy smile and arrogance. Except the face was a mask of chemical burns, butterflying from his eyes, and his eyes were glazed and unseeing. Pink and raw tissue moved when he swallowed, and there was blood flecking his lips, and that awful sucking noise when he breathed.

Clint remembered nothingness and confusion as he stared at that face and he clenched his fists, trembling. Even broken and not a threat, he wanted to scream and pummel Loki for what had been done. Natasha set a hand on his arm, and he glanced at her, and relaxed his fists.

"Please, help him."

"Why don't you take him back to Asgard?" From Steve, it sounded gentle, curious. The super soldier looked a little green around the gills (torture, Clint realized, probably didn't sit well with him).

"I cannot. Asgard lost him in the first place, and I have only just found him. Please. I know what I ask of you is great, and I will owe you all a debt that I may not be ever able to repay. But he is my brother, and I do not want him to die."

"Oh no, this guy threw me out a window," Stark pointed out, "who's to say he isn't going to do it again? Soon as he's better? I'd really rather not do a repeat performance, I know how much you guys love encores but really now."

There was a murmur throughout the group and they all looked at each other.

"We'll patch him up. Bring him to my lab." Bruce's voice was quiet and cut through the room like a knife.

"What?" Tony and Clint glanced at each other.

Steve got it right away though.

"We help him, we patch him up, we give him a reason to realize we're better than who he's been working with..."

"...and he switches sides," Bruce finished.

"It's not that easy!"

"Isn't it?" Natasha was watching him, and Clint turned to look at her, and growled, grit his teeth. "Fine, you guys patch up your favourite crazy, whatever. But don't expect me to help." He stormed off.

"Thank you, my friends." Thor's smile was still wane, but a touch of his usual glow was back.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Bruce would be the first to admit that he probably wasn't qualified to handle the class of wounds that Loki had, but Thor was insistent this not go beyond the Tower. He didn't want to expose his brother to more risk, and as they set Loki on a table and pulled the cloak away he had to admit that he had a point. Tony had become de facto aide, with his clever hands that knew how to do delicate work, and the rest were set to fetching what they needed.

A glance at Loki's back let him know they weren't setting him that way, but they needed to get his ribs back in alignment. He glanced at Tony, and they moved, Bruce slowly working on the ribs while Tony pried rocks out of Loki's back and started to wash and dress the remnants. Loki's eyes were sightless, and stared into the distance, but there were tears on his cheeks even if he didn't make a noise. Bruce wondered a little at that, but he kept working.

He was talking, his voice low and soothing, because whenever either of them touched Loki, even if they had just done so, Loki flinched away. He explained what he was doing, and Tony actually didn't interrupt him or even make jokes. Tony looked gray and like he was having a couple bad memories of his own come back to haunt him.

Bruce wasn't sure what to do about Loki's face, not yet, so he moved down to his leg. A prod at a bit of bone sticking out and Loki's eyes rolled up into his head and he fainted.

"Took him long enough," Tony whispered hoarsely.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Clint frowned as he watched what going on in his room-what the rest called his nest. Jerks. It was a corner of the top floor, almost an attic really, and he found himself grimacing a little as he watched. _He deserves this_, he thought viciously to himself, ignoring the way Loki flinched from touch and didn't make a single sound. The audio was silent on the feed, but his brain helpfully supplied the sound of the... whatever Tony was digging out of Loki's back landing on the table.

"Revenge doesn't suit you, Barton."

"He deserves everything he's getting and more," he growled back, waving a hand to turn off the tv and looking over the edge of the floor to where Steve was, right next to the ladder leading to his little loft.

"You condone torture now? Because that's what has been done to him. I know he... did things to your mind, but no one deserves that."

"Yeah, well go back down to the basement and pity him some more. I'm sure he'll just sucker you in too."

"Barton."

Clint sighed, leaning back over to look at Rogers. Captain America indeed.

"He deserves a chance. You don't have to help. But give him that much. Coulson did the same for you and Romanov."

"That was different!" he snarled. "We hadn't crawled into one of our teammate's heads and forced him into nearly destroying what he belonged to!"

"Is that what all this is about? Your head? I get it. I told you, you don't have to help. But give him a chance. Please. If Bruce can do it, I'm sure you can."

Clint grumbled, leaning away and listening as Steve walked away. He didn't tell Steve no, but that didn't mean he would do what he asked.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Loki was a bandaged lump underneath a big pile of blankets that Tony had dragged down from somewhere. He had looked at the rest of them like they were crazy when they stared, _what he's freezing, you didn't feel that, isn't he Bruce he just needs some blankets, you saw how much blood there was_. Bruce had smiled a bit, nodding and backing him up. At least someone had.

"So you said that his magic is bound," Natasha said, as they gathered in the kitchen. Tony was still down in the basement, muttering about cleaning and someone needing to stay nearby.

Thor nodded, eating a poptart. It was a lot more measured and slow than usual.

"Yes. Father was still trying to decide the best punishment, and the collar binds his magic inwards so that he cannot use it. It... itches, sometimes, when he tries to reach for his magic. It is where the marks on his throat are from."

"What happened to him? Did your people do this?" Steve's voice was quiet.

"No! He was... taken. He just vanished. We thought he had escaped, but there was no trace of his magic. I began looking for him, but after the first month much of Asgard did not care." Another measured bite of poptart.

"How long will it take him to heal then? Is he like you?" Bruce, now, finding out what he and Tony would need to know.

"I... do not know. I am sorry. Longer than me. Loki is so much magic, that I fear that it being hampered will hinder him in many other ways. He is not mortal, though. Your measures will do him great good. Thank you, again."

"Don't. We'll do what we can. You're a friend." Bruce waved it off. Steve nodded his agreement. Natasha looked less sure, but then she didn't really look one way or another about the whole issue. Something dark was wanting out to remind her of the past, and she had seen it in Tony's million watt smile downstairs-he was haunted too.

They chattered for a little while, but eventually drifted away. Natasha had a date somewhere, Bruce wanted to go check on his new patient and make sure Tony wasn't drinking himself into a stupor, Steve left to go beat up a few more punching bags. Thor finished his poptarts, thinking, debating what he should do. Where to begin looking.

"How long was he gone?"

Thor did not jump like Clint expected he would, and he suspected the thunder god had known he was there.

"Half a year."

Clint didn't say anything, and Thor did not break the silence. He watched his shorter friend, the way he paced.

"I understand that you do not like my brother, Barton, and I -"

"Shut up. Six months, and he's still fucking breathing after that? Well, gasping. Why didn't you ask us for help?"

"Would you have?"

Clint went silent. Sometimes he wondered if Thor was as dumb as he looked.

"Look, whatever. What are you going to do now? I don't see you rushing back to his bedside."

"Correct. I am going to find who took him from Asgard, and I will break them." Thor's voice bristled with energy, like a bolt of lightning cracking between the clouds, rumbled around the room, but it was not loud. Clint shivered, suddenly glad he hadn't tried to find Loki and get even.

"Do you even know where to look?"

"Where I found him." Thor was watching Clint pacing tight circles around the kitchen island.

"Look, I don't like the guy, but I've got a sharp eye. I can come if you want." Clint avoided looking at Thor, feeling like a bundle of raw nerves, Steve's words still knocking around his head. "What was done to him, it wasn't right. I don't like him, but I haven't seen anyone that broken in a long time. Ok."

Thor did not say anything for a few long minutes, considering him.

"I would be glad of your eyes, Clint. Thank you."

"Don't fucking thank me for nothing. I'm just getting out of the house before I have a flashback and try and kill him ok?"

Thor smiled, still lacking his usual boundless enthusiasm,.

"Of course. We shall depart in an hour."

"Right. Right." Clint watched Thor walk out of the room, still feeling raw and edgy. He slunk down to the labs, watched the little bundle underneath the pile of blankets (three goose down blankets, fucking seriously Stark?) and felt a shiver run up his spine.


	3. Chapter 2

Thank you to everyone whose been reading and enjoying so far. You guys are lovely, and I'm happy so many of you are faving, alerting, and reviewing. :)

I don't own the Avengers or any characters there.

Trigger warning: abuse, torture

This story does not involve smut in any way, shape or form. It's only a little slashy at that, so if you want that, you'll need to go elsewhere. This takes place after the Avengers movie.

This entire story is already completed and edited. We have 7 more updates left. :)

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Chapter 2**

"It's too fucking empty here." Clint's voice echoed around the high walls of natural cavern they were walking through. Thor nodded his agreement, staying back a few paces, letting Clint lead with his sharp eyes.

"I may have caused some trouble elsewhere to draw them away. I suspect my brother is the only reason they were here."

"And now he's gone, poof. Bet that pissed someone off." Clint murmured more to himself than to Thor. He saw the room Thor had mentioned, and slid up to it and went inside. Empty, and he stopped for a moment, stared. Thor followed up, entering the room and looked over it. Clint had no idea how he could look so... _remote_.

There, on one wall, was where they had strung up Loki (_bastard_ his mind supplied weakly), and beat him until you could see muscle and bone in his back. A table, a chair in one corner, and he tried not to think of why they'd needed those. Spots where the acid burning Loki's eyes and face had created divots in the floor, and the broken chains from when Thor had rescued him. The whole ground was sharp rock and glass (_flinches from being touched but not the pain_). He wondered when the last time Loki had eaten, or drank, remembering how scarily skin and bones he was. If the god even remembered what food was anymore.

"Barton." Thor's voice was gentle, and Clint looked up into those thunderous blue eyes and took a steady breath.

"Fuck," he said, and tried to use his eyes to _not _pick out all the details of how they had broken Loki's body. The room was large, squarish, and he paced around the outside. Always just a few prints-there were Thor's, in and out, but there were others. Loki's, barefoot and bleeding (dragged, a few times, based off blood and the fact nothing else would be dragged in this room), and others. Chitauri, they didn't look right. But a single set of boot prints, male, probably about Steve's height and weight, mostly around the edges of the room.

Six months. It wasn't just his body they were trying to break. That must be the afterthought.

He remembered how Loki didn't make a single noise even as Bruce shoved his ribs back in place and Stark dug glass and rock out of his back.

Thor wandered out of the room, following a set of the boot prints out. Clint let him, and just kept going through the room. Sharp eyes, even in this bad lighting. Light all from the hall. He wondered if Loki flinched at light now and what it probably heralded.

"Fuck," he muttered, again, shaking. He wasn't supposed to feel bad for the guy.

He saw a branch-sharpened and probably used a few times on Loki's back. He grabbed it because there was nothing else in this room for them besides those human looking footprints. Thor looked at him when he came out, noticed the branch, took it away.

"mistletoe," he said, thoughtfully. It was not, Clint decided, a good thoughtful.

"mistletoe, sure. Did you find anything."

"You found this. I have somewhere else to look, and you cannot come this time. I do not think I will need your sharp eyes."

"From a stick of mistletoe?"

Thor smiled, and suddenly he remembered that this was Loki's brother, even if not by blood, and it was kind of terrifying to see that cruel smile on Thor's face instead of on the thin and sharp one sleeping in Tony's lab right now.

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Tony does not really like his new lab mate, but he also doesn't hate him. He doesn't have Clint's baggage over Loki-sure the god threw him out a window, but he is alive now, right? Besides, the god is pretty helpless right now. They all know that. They take turns keeping an eye on him, but Tony is the only who really talks to him. The others seem to think that Loki's non-responses meant he wants to be left alone. Crazy talk.

Tony will talk to a wall if he thinks it will listen. Loki just happens to be awake.

"See this, genius. Honestly, you wouldn't have stood a chance of throwing me out that window if I'd been ready. I guess I do still owe you that drink, huh? Banner says that you probably shouldn't be drinking it, we've got more painkillers in you right now than-"

"Silence."

Tony does not shut up for anyone, and he'd be the first to tell you so, but he nearly swallowed his tongue, spinning around on his work stool to look at the Loki. The god is wrapped in one of the blankets Tony had liberated for him (and Pepper had _not_ approved of the fact now they were blood covered (and approved less of Tony pointing out he could just buy more)), and his eyes-so far milky and unseeing-are trained on Tony with a familiar sharpness.

Tony opens his mouth, and Loki's brow furrows a little more, his glare intensifying. Tony doesn't say anything after all, just shuts his mouth with a click, and gets up. Loki can _see_ him. Loki _spoke_ (it's been days now, no one expected him to speak, and he hadn't).

The god starts, shrinking back further into his cocoon on the bed he has here, sliding towards the corner, watching Tony like a beaten cat. Tony catches a glimpse of fear underneath that... defiance, he realizes.

"You can see me." It is not very intelligent.

Loki doesn't respond.

"Jarvis, get Bruce."

"Immediately sir."

Loki doesn't jump half out of his skin when Jarvis speaks from nowhere, but he flinches, and watches Tony, waiting on... _something_. Tony isn't sure what, and he's almost positive he doesn't want to know and that it's nothing good.

Bruce comes sliding into the room, babbling something about how this is amazing, absolutely amazing. Loki's gaze flicks between the two of them, still waiting. Tony keeps quiet.

Bruce starts asking Loki questions-_how clear is it, can you make out these things, what colour is this_-and Loki suddenly speaks again.

"Leave me alone. I want to sleep."

Bruce flushes, and laughs, and pushes a hand through his hair and it all sticks up.

"Right, right, of course. This is good though!" He assures Loki, and Loki's staring at him like he's grown a second head. Staring at both of them like that.

Tony and him leave the lab, and Loki lays down (on his side, because despite his eyes his back is still an open wound and his right shin still shattered) and goes to sleep.

Tony glances back, frowning, but he keeps his thoughts-_what did they do to you? why do they want you silent?_-to himself.

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Thor is delighted that his brother's vision has returned, that he has apparently managed a handful of words. Clint leaves him to his delight, refusing to come along down to the labs.

"Brother! You can speak again?"

"Yes." The word is quiet, cutting, bitter. Thor does not mind Loki's caustic nature, or at least tries to pretend he doesn't.

"And see?"

"Yes."

"This is very good," he says, and the silence settles between them. Thor tries not to let it make him uncomfortable, flashing back on the earnest, honest smile his brother gave him before they left for Jotunheim, that agreement that of course he would follow Thor. He wants to ask Loki so much, but he knows Loki won't tell him.

"I want to see if I can walk," Loki says suddenly, and his cat green eyes are watching Thor, waiting, as if testing. Seeing if it's a dream or not. Thor beams, glad that he can at least be of some use, and tries to ignore the way his brother flinches at his touch, the tell-tale signs of wanting to hide back down in his covers even as Thor helps him up. Someone has supplied him with some flannel pajama pants. Thor knows not to comment on these things. He has ever since Loki caught a cold when they were young.

He guides his brother in a slow circuit around the room, talking, telling him about Jane and the Avengers. He avoids mentioning Asgard and father and mother, he avoids mentioning the Chitauri and how he found his brother (though he thinks Loki might want to know, or at least be curious, because his brother _always_ wants to know, everything). It is small talk, and he knows it, but considering Loki's venom before he accepts it. He doesn't comment on the way Loki slows as they move, or how more of his weight presses into Thor, so that by the end Thor is nearly carrying him back into the bed.

Loki curls back up in the blankets, looking even more exhausted than he had before, and the silence is back again.

"You should try eating. They won't poison you."

Loki just glances up at him.

"I need to go. I am sorry I cannot stay longer brother."

"Family," the word less a question and more a hiss as Thor is headed out the door. Thor pauses, and looks back.

"Not that family," he says quietly. He looks at his brother, feeling a burning rage that he has to restrain. Those broken shoulders, the flinching, the way his voice never goes above a whisper and he's always watching, waiting on someone to hit him for speaking.

He turns to go again.

"Thank you," it's a whisper and a sigh, and Thor knows better than to acknowledge it.


	4. Chapter 3

Thanks again for all the reviews, favourites, and follows. You guys are wonderful.

I don't own the Avengers or any characters there.

Trigger warning: abuse, torture

This story does not involve smut in any way, shape or form. It's only a little slashy at that, so if you want that, you'll need to go elsewhere. This takes place after the Avengers movie.

This entire story is already completed and edited. We have 6 more updates left. :)

Edit on 6/17/2012-Updated chapters 2 and 3. Mistletoe, not holly Felicity. #fail

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**Chapter 3**

Clint would probably be the first to admit that for all the other goody ways that Steve could get on his nerves, the man could make a mean waffle. Which was why he was in the kitchen so early-Steve was an early riser, and if you wanted waffles you needed to be too. The coffee maker was producing a coffee so black it looked like ink, but it wasn't yet ready to be poured in a mug, which was really all Clint wanted. Coffee and waffles, two things to try and make him feel better and make up for the restless night.

He kept seeing the room where Thor had found Loki and that particular shade of blue and the way Loki didn't scream as they shoved his body back together.

Steve was humming, though Clint didn't recognize the song. Probably something from before he was born. It sounded like it. A plate with two waffles was slid his way, and he dove on them, covering them in sticky sweet maple syrup. A mug of coffee joined a second later, and he nodded his thanks. Words and grins were a bit too much this early.

The captain joined him shortly after, a mug and plate of his own. Steve had considerably more food-waffles and eggs and fruit-but it'd be burned away before his mid morning snack. He had finished his first waffle and was contemplating if he wanted a second cup of coffee when Steve finally spoke.

"So."

Clint eyed him warily. He didn't like that voice, or that particular look.

"So?" he asked, trying to act oblivious, and got himself a second cup of coffee before he began eating the other waffle.

"Where did you take off to with Thor?"

"A place." He tried to put as much 'none of your business' in it as he could. If it had been Stark or Bruce or anyone else he just would have said 'fuck off', but Steve brought out the best in all of them.

"Mm. Something to do with Loki then. Have you thought about what I said at all?"

"Look, Steve, I'm eating breakfast here. I'd like not to get grilled over this sh-stuff first thing in the morning, thanks."

They ate in silence, and Clint filled himself a third cup and was debating if he would make it to the door before Steve spoke again. He watched the coffee pour in and he thought about it. Honestly, if he had to talk to anyone about it, he'd rather it was Steve. Well. Maybe Natasha, too, but that was different, and he didn't think Natasha had any interest in Loki other than a temporary distraction from all the other shit they did.

"We went to where Thor found Loki. I told Thor if he needed me, I'd go." He turned around, glaring at Steve. "Not because of you though."

Steve didn't say anything, and in fact seemed to not be paying any attention to Clint at all. Clint scowled at him.

"I don't like him. I still have nightmares, ok? I keep expecting him to show up and do it again, and I don't think there's anything I can do about it. But. But fucking Christ Steve-"and he ignored the eyebrow that shot up and the disapproving look-"you didn't see that room. Six months, and I don't even know if the Loki you guys want to convert is even _there_ anymore. I don't like him, and don't even pretend to, he's caused me more sleepless nights than half the shit I've seen, but _fuck_, I feel sorry for him. "

"Six months?" Steve's eyes widened, the disapproval fading off like early morning mist. "Thor didn't tell us that."

"Do you honestly think we would have helped him? I wouldn't have. Stark wouldn't have, and Natasha's a fifty-fifty toss up."

"I might have."

"Yeah, but would he be here, in the fucking basement, us making sure he doesn't fall apart?"

Steve shook his head, frowning.

"Sirs, Loki is currently awake," Jarvis chimed politely. Steve looked over at Clint.

"Look, I'll go with you. Just to see how soon we can kick his ass back out with his brother. That's it. Besides, you'll American Boy at him and he'll probably snap and try to mindzap you and then where will we be? Square fucking one."

Steve just smiled at him.

XXXXXX

"Niece," Thor said politely, but there was a great deal of warmth behind it. Loki's children were charming, in their own way, and he knew his brother loved them dearly.

"Uncle," Hel said, surprised to see him but no less happy for it. Thor was perhaps the only uncle who treated her with kindness. "What brings you to Helheim?"

"Where is Baldr?"

"Why, he should be where he always is. Would you like to see him? You know you cannot. I was very clear about the terms with Father, you know how he twists words."

"I know." Thor smiled. "I would not ask you to break any terms. Just, please, check. Make sure he is here."

Hel frowned at him a little, and Thor tried to radiate strength and calmness, but his insides were roiling and he was worried. The mistletoe branch was eating away at his mind, and he recognized those boot prints even if he hadn't seen them in years.

It doesn't take very long and they chatted idly while they waited on Hel's servant to return. She frowned, and looked at him sideways.

"He isn't there."

Thor swore, and slammed a fist into a column, sending spider cracks through the marble.

"I am sorry niece. I can have that fixed," he said, trying to control his temper.

"No need. This has to do with Father's disappearance, doesn't it?"

Thor looked at her silently, and she smiled, eyes brimming with sadness. She put a finger to her mouth, a promise unspoken between them. He hugged his niece, kissed her hair, and left.

Baldr. Naturally.

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The noise isn't one that Clint can really place-somewhere between a sob and a howl and a whimper, all of them at once, and he and Steve freeze in the doorway. Loki isn't looking at Clint-not surprising, Clint doubts he's even a blip in Loki's bag of nightmares-but he's looking at Steve and the fear is so primal and animal that neither of them know how to react.

Loki moves first, breaking them out of their stalemate, diving for something-and Clint sees the glint of silver, the scalpel that Tony kept not putting away and not putting away and he swears. The blade isn't going to do any lasting damage to Steve, but _goddammit_ he just woke up, he doesn't need this. Steve is moving too, though not as fast; he doesn't know what Loki's got in his hand.

Clint skids to a halt next to Loki, on his knees, and then his eyes widen as he realizes there's blood, the trickster god is bleeding all over everything-his collar is drenched in it, his left wrist pumping it out everywhere. He wasn't going after Steve, that fear managed to snap something in his mind, and he's trying to _escape_ Clint realizes, permanently escape this fear and torment and worry that has been eating away at him for _months_ now.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck" he swears, and Loki is laughing, weeping, the first joyful sound he's ever heard the god make, and it makes him want to puke. "Steve fucking-"and the sheet from the bed is shoved in his hands.

"I'm getting Banner," Steve says, shortly, and fucking right he is, Loki is still laughing, and trying to slide away from Steve when he gets close, and whatever he's seen it's certainly not Steve. At least Clint didn't think Captain America inspired terror in the heart of the god.

Clint rips the sheet up, twists around and presses it down on Loki's bleeding wrist, ties it, and then the same with his throat-_fuck there is so much blood_-trying to press so that it helps stop the flow of bleeding. Loki is still laughing, but the sound is choking on sobs, and then he starts babbling, the joy gone right out of him, voice a broken shell.

"Help," the god begs, and he sobs, a big broken sob. "Don't let me die. I can't die. I don't deserve it," and Clint looks up at the god's face to tell him that _of course he fucking deserves death, look what he had done to Clint and New York_ and everything around him vanishes. Blue, blue eyes, glowing blue, blue the colour of Clint's mind for that horrible period when he wasn't in control, and for a panicked moment he thinks Loki is trying to catch him again. But he isn't, because he can't get to his magic, and it's Loki whose being manipulated, _Loki_ whose will has broken under someone else's.

_Loki_ caught in that blue light.

Then Bruce is there, dragging Loki up, the god's eyes rolling up in his head as the blood loss gets to him, and Clint sits there on the floor, everything white noise, not even noticing the movement around him or Steve or anything. He rubs his forehead, trying to understand, to accept, to get it, and feeling the warm wetness that streaks on his forehead like a blessing or a mark or _something_, he realizes he's still drenched in Loki's blood, some horrible and strange baptism and he doesn't even know _what for_.

Fuck.


	5. Chapter 4

Thanks again for all the reviews, favourites, and follows. You guys are wonderful. This one feels shorter, but the next one _more_ than makes up for it, I promise. I might post it early too, because it's one of my favourites. :)

I don't own the Avengers or any characters there.

Trigger warning: abuse, torture

This story does not involve smut in any way, shape or form. It's only a little slashy at that, so if you want that, you'll need to go elsewhere. This takes place after the Avengers movie.

This entire story is already completed and edited. We have 5 more updates left. :)

**Chapter 4**

His company stopped being just Stark all the time. He started to wander, ignoring the (admittedly nice) cane that they had got for him, instead steadying himself on the wall as he went through the tower. He kept waiting on someone to hit him, or yell, or something, but other than a little surprise at seeing him, and a sometimes quick smile, they did not bother him. They let him do what he wanted.

He wondered if they would let him wander outside, but he didn't want to risk it.

Instead, painstakingly, he would make his way to the roof of the tower, usually empty, and sit, knees pulled to his chest. The air was almost clear here, if the wind blew just so, and he'd watch the city move about its life without him. Occasionally, he'd get up, move to the edge, lean over, wonder about letting go and falling-this time with a definitive end-and that little voice would whisper at the edges.

_You do not deserve death, peace, silence._

He pretended not to notice the other person who hovered near the edges, watching him as he would move back to where he perched-the one had tried to keep his blood from pouring out of him. Hawk brown eyes would watch him, and they seemed familiar. All of these people seemed familiar, the way that a silhouette seen frequently is familiar, even if the face is unknown.

Those eyes would go back to something-reading-once he was sitting again. They didn't want him to die, but the flavour of it was different from the voice that would whisper at him when he leaned over the edge.

XXXXXXXXX

Clint rubbed at his forehead as Bruce joined him on the balcony overlooking where Loki had taken to hiding, passing the time, quickly turning off the display of the tablet he'd been reading over.

"He hasn't tried to jump off, has he?" Bruce asked, looking a bit concerned down at where Loki sat, legs dangling off the side of the building, resting against part of the railing. Clint shook his head. "Well, good. I don't know if I could put him together after that one."

Bruce sat down next to Clint, glancing at the newly darkened screen, but he didn't pry. Clint liked that about Bruce-he wouldn't pry, long as you didn't pry into his life.

"That's why I'm up here. Figured I'd keep an eye on him. Someone needs to, and I think I'm the only one who enjoys the vertigo."

Bruce nodded.

They watched the god, who pretended not to notice he had another audience member. He turned his head slightly, as if following a flock of birds. Clint was pretty sure he knew they were there and thus the head turn, so he could see if they tried to get near-he always seemed to know, always edging around and away, constantly moving just so no one would touch him.

"He doesn't flinch so much around you," Bruce commented. Clint side eyed him. "It's true, he doesn't."

"Probably knows I owe him a well-deserved punch," Clint muttered, but it didn't have the same venom as before.

"Well, whatever it is, it's good. He's starting to trust us a little, at least." Bruce chuckled, then stood, going back inside. "Uh, let me know if anything happens, all right?" Clint nodded, and the rumpled looking doctor ducked back inside. Clint watched him go, and then returned his gaze to where Loki sat for a moment. Bruce gone, Loki's gaze had moved again, back to watching his feet dangling above the city streets below.

Clint flicked the screen back on on his tablet, looking through stills and images. Blue eyes, and straight from the get-go. Naturally. Subtle, most the time, but it was all there, and he wasn't particularly thrilled by it. The anger at Loki was gone, or at least settled. He wanted to be angry, but he couldn't without remembering that room and the pale white butterfly wing scars still on Loki's face. He wasn't sure if Loki had been entirely aware of what he was doing. And a quick skim over of the myths told him that Loki probably would have been perfectly justified to want to break something.

He just wished it hadn't been Earth.

Movement drew his eye up. Loki was standing again, leaning over the rail, dangerously so, stood on tiptoe.

"Hey! You want to fall?" he shouted. Loki settled back on his feet, blinking, looking over his shoulder at Clint, eyes narrowed. A flicker of blue was there, and Clint swallowed. It faded, and Loki began to pace along the railing, picking somewhere else to sit. Stillness settled again over both of them.

XXXXXXXXX

"So care to explain what you've been trying to get to on Jarvis while I was away?" Tony leaned against the wall casually, eyes straight ahead, sipping at his coffee.

Clint shrugged, drawing the string back to his cheek, following the moving target in the range.

"Because it looks like, and I could be wrong, but it _looks like_ you've been trying to get to my files on Loki and his staff. Just a hunch."

Clint released the arrow, drew and shot a second target in one smooth motion. Tony didn't seem phased.

"Now, I have to admit I'm curious. You're the one who was most vocal about Loki, got the most reason to hate him, and now here you are, trying to dig up more about him. Really, that doesn't come off suspicious at all, super assassin trying to find out more about our godling guest."

"It's none of your business."

Tony snapped a hand around Clint's wrist before he could release a third arrow, grip far tighter than Clint had suspected it could be. He met those deep brown eyes, skin around them tight.

"You made it my business when you tried hacking into my things. Now, you spill, and I might let you have some of it. You don't, and you can get the hell out of my tower."

Tony let go of his hand, and Clint lowered both bow and arrow. He put the arrow back, and looked at Tony, thinking. Stark was smart, and it was very likely that if he _did_ help Clint that he'd be able to put together the pieces Clint was missing. And if he didn't, then he'd know what Clint was up to, but he wouldn't necessarily interfere. Not telling him would lead to at least temporarily not having access to Loki, which meant he couldn't... do whatever it was he was trying to do.

He wasn't sure it was helping.

"Fine." He put his bow away swiftly, and walked out of the range, Tony grinning like a maniac behind him. As they walked towards the lab, Clint told him what was going on. About the blue he noticed when Loki tried to kill himself in a panic, and the various clips they had of Loki from when he was captive, starting with when Loki first appeared. How he thought that the staff probably was helping keep him tame even so far from those who had captured him, even though the tesseract was gone now.

He kept his eyes ahead. He didn't want to find out what Tony thought about his research or interest.

In the lab, he showed him, all these little clips and snippets, how it was rarely more than a flash or two-nothing at all like Loki's control of Clint and Erik. And when he was done, he glanced over at Tony, who was staring, mind clearly racing, arms crossed.

"I remember that void he fell through. Saw it for a bit. I thought I was going to die. It was emptiness, death, and cold. Thor says he fell through that for a long time before he even showed up here, and then he landed with the Chitauri." Tony leaned forward, zooming in on one of the stills, and hand tip-tapping on his arc reactor. "I wonder how much of him was left when he got there."

Clint didn't say anything, not wanting to interrupt Tony.

"He just grabbed you and Erik. Quick and dirty. You didn't think or feel anything except what he wanted, did you?" Tony looked over at him, already knowing the answer.

"Just blue. Everything was this one shade of blue."

Tony looked back at the image. "It was quick and dirty. He was hurting and weak. He staggered a lot when he stumbled through the portal. They had months to start to put him together how they wanted. Thor probably wasn't lying when he said that this was not Loki as he was, even taking the whole 'try to wipe out an entire species' into account. What? Thor told me about it over drinks. Anyway, that's not important. What is, is head trauma isn't going to knock the magic blue light out of Loki. Otherwise, Hulk would have done it when he smashed him like a ragdoll.

"We need to destroy the source, or at least the one that's keeping it going. He's not near the Chitauri or the tesseract anymore, and that's why you wanted to see the staff. It's got a chunk in it, and that would be close enough to keep it going-especially since he's been down here in the lab sleeping so often."

"Which just leaves figuring out how to get it out of his head." Clint nodded, glad that Tony had put it all together. Tony looked at him.

"Exactly."


	6. Chapter 5

****Thanks again for all the reviews, favourites, and follows. I hope you love this chapter as much as I do! :D

I don't own the Avengers or any characters there.

Trigger warning: abuse, torture

This story does not involve smut in any way, shape or form. It's only a little slashy at that, so if you want that, you'll need to go elsewhere. This takes place after the Avengers movie.

This entire story is already completed and edited. We have 4 more updates left. :) I'll be switching to updating in the evenings, when I get home, thus why this one is going up early (also it's one of my two favourite chapters)

**Chapter 5**

Clint couldn't tell you, if you asked, why he made sure he was always near Loki. He couldn't explain that he felt a bit of sympathy for the god and what was going on in his head. He couldn't really put to words that he thought that having something stable nearby was helpful (or that when he'd been under Loki had been that source of stability, even if that made him sick to think of now (it's not like Loki ever treated him with anything other than kindness when he was under(fuck))), but he knew all of it, and so as the days went by, he made sure he was nearby, or a room away, or something. Almost unconsciously started planning his days around Loki's wanderings.

And as the days and weeks went by, he didn't notice that he was the one that was nearly always around.

For the most part, Loki was still sticking to one word responses, but Steve had managed to get him eating-fruit, apples, always with the apples-and drinking-hot chocolate, preferably thick and with mini marshmallows-and he was starting to look less bone thin and more like, well Loki. Even if his wit stayed in his eyes and he shrank away from sudden noises and light. Hell, even his back was mostly just a network of scars instead of exposed muscle.

Clint was pretty sure that Loki at least accepted them, even if he was confused by all of them, by their care and their concern. Like how he tripped on the corner of a rug, and Steve caught him before he could fall. Loki had shot back out of the grip like it was a brand, but after that he'd seemed a little less guarded around Steve. Or the way Natasha had laughed at one of his rare one-line witticisms when Tony was snarking off on some tangent. He was, Clint would say and the rest would agree, getting used to them, and this life he had gained.

Loki still preferred to go up to the patio on the roof, to stare down, and Clint sometimes wondered if he was plotting taking over the world again or deciding if he could jump before anyone caught him. He didn't lean over the edge so dangerously, but they still didn't speak. And once, while Clint was reading he glanced up and saw that Loki was dancing. He stopped as soon as he realized Clint was looking, but still.

Clint tended to make sure he always looked like he was reading, and Loki would dance. Clint reasoned that it probably was helping build leg strength-never mind that there weren't even the pale white lines to show where the shards of his shin had been sticking out of the skin. And it was, in a way, graceful. Loki would stumble sometimes, but Clint didn't ever really look up to see because he knew that would probably make him scamper back inside and hide somewhere, and then where would they be? Square fucking one, like he'd told Steve. This at least showed something more like life and less like 'hurl self from building to end it all.'

He hoped that's what it showed.

He felt like a sap.

Eventually, he started reading on the same patio, instead of on the edge of where Tony would land when he got home, and that took a few days, but then Loki went back to dancing and Clint went back to reading just like they had before.

It was a movement that seemed just slightly off that caught Clint's eye, and he stopped reading, Loki in midjump, and he was aware, right then, that it hadn't worked right and it was going to be a poor landing, and on top of that it was so close to the edge...

He was up and moving, eyes following and mind racing and he managed to grab Loki before the god's ankle gave out under him, situating himself between the edge and Loki. He could feel the railing digging into his back, Loki all skin and bones and spasming muscles in his arms, black hair brushing against Clint's face. He didn't let go for a second, just held the god tightly, getting his heart to stop pounding quite so loudly in his ears.

When Loki looked up and met his gaze with those wide and vibrant and utterly insane green eyes, he wanted to swear in every language at the same time.

He loosened his grip, and Loki didn't immediately bolt. He got his feet back underneath himself slowly, tested his ankle, watched Clint. He used Clint to steady himself, and Clint realized he wasn't breathing as he watched Loki.

Loki did not say thank you, or acknowledge in any way that he fell, just a little of that stiff pride (he hoped it was pride) back. A little touch of Loki before all this.

"Clumsy," he said, with a grin, and Loki stiffened and looked back at him with a glare before disappearing back inside and Clint laughed.

XXXXXX

Tony ran his hand through his hair and Clint decided (because he is a polite assassin and not because he was sure he looked the same) not to comment on the way it made all his hair stick every which way.

"So he didn't freak out when you touched him?"

"No."

Tony took that in and added it to what he knew about the situation. He let his hands tinker with the part on his desk while his mind churned over the new thing, assorting and assembling. Clint let him. He felt like he was racing on empty, like something was going to happen and it wouldn't be pretty.

"Maybe he's starting to get enough of a self we could, you know, destroy it."

Tony stopped what he was doing to look at Clint.

"You know. That would be the easiest way. If there's another tesseract on Earth, the chunk in the staff doesn't belong to it. Without the staff you've got no control. Right? I mean, we clearly don't understand how the damn thing works, even after the past few weeks."

"That would be... that would be dumb."

"You just want to figure out the puzzle. What if we can't because it's not attuned to us? We don't listen to what it does, not like Loki. No one here knows magic like he does, but he's got that collar on and doesn't really talk. And no one is watching it and really pulling the strings anymore-they know Loki doesn't have it."

"Well, puzzle aside, that would be dumb. We don't even know how much of his 'self' is being held together by the thing controlling him. Him suddenly being willing to touch one person in the entire tower doesn't indicate anything."

"But he's starting to snark again. He's not flinching when someone comes in the room."

"That's recovering from trauma, not brain zappage."

"And if he does break? He going to know we did it?"

Tony frowned at him.

"You think he'll pull through it."

"I don't think he wants to die any more. It's worth a shot."

"Ok. Ok, we'll try it. But only because you asked so nicely."

Clint smirked. "And you're mad you can't figure out how it works."

Tony snorted, not willing to admit to anything of the sort.

XXXXXX

Steve was used to being the only one up when he made breakfast. Oh, occasionally Natasha would be there, or Clint, usually just before leaving for some assignment (which hadn't happened in a while, but he wasn't going to mention it to Clint because it was clearly doing good for Loki), but for the most part, it was just him. Once in a great while Tony would stagger in, usually just before he went to sleep after an all-night bender.

But the past few weeks, he had gotten used to seeing Loki there when he walked into the kitchen. The first time had sent the trickster jumping and slipping out the door before Steve could even say good morning, but now there was some sort of... truce between them. It usually made Steve smile a bit. He wasn't sure if Loki was there because he had woken up or hadn't gone to sleep yet, but he didn't ask about it like he would with the others.

Loki never asked for anything Steve was making, and so Steve never offered (though he really wanted to). All of them had learned Loki stuck around longer, grew more comfortable with them, the less they pointed out that Loki was still there while they did whatever. He'd slid a mug of coffee to him once, which had ended poorly; he made it up with hot chocolate (thick with milk and mini marshmallows), which the god clearly didn't trust but had then immediately begun to clutch to the drink to himself the way the rest of the team did coffee.

So Steve usually made him some hot chocolate (and he was sure Loki knew how to by now because the god drank it all day, but let Steve do it as some sort of indicator of trust) before he set the coffee on and started to make his breakfast. And Loki would sit at the bar, with whatever variety of apple Miss Potts had picked out for him that week, and carefully slice it and eat it. Usually after dipping it in the hot chocolate, which had been an accidental discovery. And when Steve was done cooking he'd leave, and Steve would eat his breakfast alone.

This morning, Loki was there, all the apples spread on the counter as he carefully picked the least bruised one (that was something Steve _did_ tell Miss Potts about, because it was the sort of thing she would like to know), and his glance flicked up to Steve and down, probably recognizing him more by the sound of his footstep than seeing him. Steve began to make the hot chocolate, contemplating Loki's evident sweet tooth.

"Do you want a waffle?" he asked, as he set the mug down near Loki (don't hand it, that usually results in a shattered mug and a hot chocolate covered floor as Loki tries to avoid touching him).

Loki looked up, eyes narrowed, and he looked rather adorable, some of his hair sticking up and face almost catlike (if you didn't mind the butterfly white scarring that looks a little like face paint in certain light).

"It's one of the things I make. It's sweet. Cover it in butter and syrup. I think you'd like it," Steve said amiably, as he gets out the things he needed to make his breakfast. He didn't watch Loki, and he wondered a little if this would ruin their usually peaceful morning routine.

Loki picked out his apple and studied it critically, apparently finding flaw in it still but he put the rest away and sipped his hot chocolate and got a knife like Steve hadn't asked him.

"I will try one of these... waffles," Loki allowed regally and Steve grinned though Loki couldn't see it.

XXXXXX

"You just have this shit here? Jesus fuck Tony, you could blow the whole fucking tower up! While I'm sleeping!"

"Calm down. Haven't yet."

XXXXXX

He wasn't sure how he felt about waffles, considering the one that Steve had given him. The syrup was pooling in the little divots, and oil from the butter glistens, but he tried it anyway. It was, surprisingly, good. Sweeter than anything else he'd had except the drink Steve made for him each morning. He didn't remember many sweet foods from growing up.

XXXXXX

"Maybe we should see where Loki is?" Clint asked nervously, shielding his eyes some.

"Nah. We'll know in a second. Jarvis!"

XXXXXX

Steve hopes some that this, too, will become part of their morning routine. When he's not trying to destroy everything, he's a pretty okay guy to eat breakfast with. Just troubled.

Loki has clearly never had anything quite like waffles before, and he eats it with gusto. Steve politely doesn't comment on it as he starts in on his own food. He's pretty sure most of Loki's weight is from the gallons of hot chocolate he drinks each day.

They sit with a bar stool between them, so Steve doesn't accidentally touch Loki and Loki doesn't feel like he's trapped. He notices Loki stiffen a little to his side, and he looks over.

"Loki?" he asks, worried, because Loki has dropped his fork and is staring into some middle distance. His eyes are blue, the same blue that Clint's and Erik's were he realizes with a jolt, and then Loki stands, half-staggers, collapses to the floor, one hand to his head.

Steve gets up, goes to him, touches his shoulder before he even thinks about it. Loki's got both his hands to his head, fingers digging into his scalp, and he doesn't even react to being touched. Kneeling down in front of him, Steve tries to pull Loki's hands away before he hurts himself. Loki's got his eyes closed, and he's making this keening noise, and he won't let go of his hair, and then he does, and Steve falls on his ass because he wasn't expecting it, and Loki throws his head back and he _screams_.


	7. Chapter 6

So. So you guys remember how I sort of ended up on a cliff hanger last time? This chapter is worse. :)

Thank you _every one of you_ for the reviews, favs, and follows. I adore it. There is literally nothing quite so wonderful as waking up and seeing all the reviews. :) So thank you.

I don't own the Avengers or any characters there.

Trigger warning: abuse, torture

This story does not involve smut in any way, shape or form. It's only a little slashy at that, so if you want that, you'll need to go elsewhere. This takes place after the Avengers movie.

This entire story is already completed and edited. We have 3 more updates left. :)

**Chapter 6**

Everyone in the tower is converging on that god awful scream that suddenly stopped, Bruce nearly running into Tony, Clint already sprinting around the corner into the kitchen and skidding to a stop. Steve is there, on his knees, cradling Loki. Loki is sobbing, flailing and tearing at his hair occasionally, speaking in a tongue none of them know, but he isn't flinching at Steve holding him.

"I don't know what happened. His eyes just went blue and he fell over and he screamed, I think my ears are still ringing, and he's not responding to anything," Steve is very nearly babbling, and he looks up at them as Tony and Bruce come in behind him. Bruce is relaxing, slightly, calming down the other guy, now that he knows that it's not something that needs smashing.

Loki's mouth is red, blood Clint registers, and he lets out the most pitiful keening noise, green eyes searching. He swats at something in front of him that no one else can see, and then begins to flail again. Steve wraps his arms around him, gently, and Loki stills, gasping for air, trembling.

"That, I believe, is our fault, Captain," Tony manages to say, and he moves for the liquor cabinet. He needs a stiff drink. Steve looks up at him in disapproval but it's short lived, because Loki begins to itch at his throat, at the collar that restrains his magic, and he's coming away bloody without seeming to notice. Steve grabs his hands and Bruce asks what Steve clearly wants to.

"'Our fault?'" Bruce looks between him and Clint, realizing they had come from the same place.

"Uh," Clint says, a bit unintelligently. Did he look this bad when he came out? He doesn't think so. He had managed to place himself pretty quickly, and while he hadn't stopped being freaked out that maybe his mind wasn't his own, he had known who he was, who Natasha was, who everyone was. His horror had been realizing what he'd done.

"He was mindzapped. A lot more invasive and delicately than Clint here. We've been working on figuring out how to get him unzapped for the better part of a month, but we keep coming up blank. He didn't seem like he wanted to kill himself anymore, so we figured we'd just destroy his staff." Tony tries not to flinch when Loki keens again.

Clint licks his lips, and kneels down next to Steve and Loki, grabs Loki's hand before he starts scratching at his throat again.

"Hey," he says, softly, and Loki looks at him and nearly looks straight through him.

"So you thought just ripping it up by the roots-when it was through most his mind—couldn't possibly go wrong," Bruce says, flatly, and Tony admits that the rumpled professor look is still really terrifying when Bruce gets that glint in his eye.

Steve glances up, disapproving, clearly laying the blame with Tony. Tony grumbles, but he's the genius and he's supposed to know better or something. Loki is mostly still now, staring at Clint, taking in ragged breaths. And he's stopped making that damned keening noise.

"Hver ert þú?" Loki says. "Hvar er ég?" His voice is ragged, he's clearly torn something with that scream that echoed through the whole tower, and the blood is probably from his throat.

"Clint," he says.

"Hvar er ég? Hversu langt í burtu er Valhalla?" His eyes are lost, unfocused, wavering away from Clint and looking around in confusion, and he swallows.

"Sirs, he is asking where he is and how far Valhalla is," Jarvis chimed in helpfully, making everyone start except Loki, who doesn't even seem to notice the unexpected voice, eyes dazedly following the edge of the countertop.

"Loki," Clint says, and Loki looks at him, focusing, and his grip on Clint's hand tightens.

"Þú veist hver ég er," Loki says, sharply, desperately, as if he's just found an island and he's drowning. "Þú þekkir mig... Clint... Clint Barton, circus performer, Hawkeye, likes high places. _Avenger_." He pushes himself out of Steve's arms, draws closer to Clint, eyes suddenly focused and sharp, one hand gripping Clint's arm, the other reaching up idly to scratch at his throat reflexively. It is, Clint decides, a bit hard to back away when crouched like this.

But then it's gone, and Loki's letting go, twisting to look at the rest, eyes losing their intensity.

"What the _fuck_," Clint breathes out, finding himself on his ass. Steve doesn't even look at him disapprovingly.

XXXXXX

Bruce frowned at his patient. He really, really wasn't qualified to deal with this, whatever this was. Physical hurts he at least had some experience with, but this was a whole new ball game. In a different field. Possibly another planet.

Loki sat on the table in front of him, complacent. Steve had given him a mug of hot chocolate, which it seemed he both remembered and lost no love for. Jarvis had taken to helpfully translating when Loki spoke in Icelandic, even using a voice that sounded quite a bit like Loki. Loki barely paid it any mind, though sometimes he would look around curiously.

"Loki," he said, and Loki's wandering gaze turned to him. "Do you know where you are?"

"Tower," he said.

"Do you remember how you got here?"

Loki's expression darkened and closed off.

"That's a yes then. Do you remember who I am?"

"Bruce Banner," and his voice was clipped, precise, suddenly focused, his eyes sharpening, "scientist who has involved himself with gamma radiation a bit too much. There's another you who does not like me, and I do not like him. You have to stay calm otherwise you lose control."

His eyes began to wander again, and he gave a little hum, sipping at his hot chocolate, eyes wandering to where Clint was sitting, watching. Bruce licked his lips some.

"Hvað hefur þú?" he asked Clint, and Jarvis cheerfully translated _What do you have_.

Clint held up a wrench he'd grabbed off of Tony's shelves to give himself something to do. Loki hummed again and sipped his chocolate.

"Now what?" Steve asked quietly, his arms folded across his broad chest.

Bruce shook his head. "I don't know," he admitted. "He's... well, you can see. He's only half here. _Some people_ decided to rip out probably the only thing holding him together after he left Asgard." He looked pointedly at Tony and Clint, and they both ignored him.

Well, Clint at least looked a little ashamed.

Loki got up suddenly, and moved over to where Clint was, sliding to sit down next to him gracefully, eyes watching the way Clint's hands moved over the wrench.

"Like moments of suddenly realizing he's here," Steve murmured. "But otherwise out of time."

"Thor," Tony said brightly, flashing them all his classic million watt smile, "is going to be angry. I believe the word that fits best is 'livid.' He will be 'livid' and there be lots of storming all around the tower."

Bruce sighed and his hands reflexively found a pen to play with in one of his pockets.

XXXXXX

Loki still showed up for breakfast with Steve the next morning, and even seemed offended when Steve did not immediately offer him more waffles before his mind slipped away again.

XXXXXX

It was afternoon, and Natasha was back, and they were arguing over what movie to watch because it was a good excuse for everyone to be in the same room together. Clint felt a little rush of deja vu, but he tried to ignore it. Loki was sitting serenely on one of the armchairs, a blanket stolen from somewhere wrapped around his shoulders like a cloak. Occasionally a flicker of irritation at their arguing would cross his face, then melt away as his mind stopped focusing on the now. Clint dragged a chair over because he didn't like the way Loki would scratch at his neck without noticing, leaving angry red marks by his collar, and this would make it so he could reach over and stop him.

He admitted, privately, that he did care about Loki, and sympathized, and all that incredibly hogwashy bullshit that he didn't like to admit to ever since he had met Natasha all those years ago.

Tony came in bearing popcorn and they were still arguing over the movie. The skies were clear today; Clint kept obsessively checking. This was all so like the night when Thor showed up with Loki in his arms, and his instincts are telling him that something is going to go _wrong_ and there's nothing he can do about it-but he can certainly watch and hopefully act before it all goes south.

They finally, _finally_, settle on some movie about Sherlock, not that Clint's complaining. And the movie drew Loki's attention, seemed to ground him. When he had something to focus on, he was always grounded and sharp and dripping with venom-even if it wasn't nearly as caustic as it used to be.

He swatted Clint's hand away whenever Clint reached over to keep him from scratching-and why was he scratching, he shouldn't _be_ reaching for magic-but he didn't flinch away. At one point he snagged Clint's hand in a grip hard enough to make his bones creak and _glares_, before returning his attention back to the movie.

Thor usually shows up suddenly or not at all.

The only warning anyone gets-and Clint's the only one who really gets it, since he's the only one not paying attention to the movie-is that Loki suddenly flinches and draws up, looking towards the windows, darkened so the light wouldn't shine in their eyes.

The thunder booms at almost exactly the same time Thor lands in the room, Mjolnir in hand, eyes searching for his brother.

"Thor! Thor! We have _talked_ about this, you come in through the door, _that is the second tv you've broken this quarter_, this is not good Thor-" and the look on Thor's face is relief to see Loki there.

"Loki, you are well. I was worried Baldr had come here-"

Clint's instincts scream. "Down!" he roars, and months of trust and teamwork mean everyone drops to the floor before they even know why they are doing it, including Thor.

The windows blow in, shards of glass going everywhere. Clint has grabbed Loki's hand, dragging him down with him, shielding him from the worst of it. Thor swears loudly, getting knocked down by the blast of wind, and then there is silence.

In the ruins of the common room, where the television used to be, stands a man that Clint has to look twice at to make sure it's not Steve standing there. His hair is longer, and he has facial hair, his eyes just a touch bluer, but he'd be ready to swear before a court that it was Steve if he couldn't look up and see Steve right there. He feels Loki stiffen as the god looks up.

They begin to stand, carefully. Natasha is the fastest of them, the most prepared, but he flicks a wrist and the bullets don't even manage to get to him before falling out of the air, stalled. He's smiling the most serene and kind smile that Clint has ever seen-seriously, not even Steve ever looked quite that nice-and he's looking at where Loki is still crouched on the floor.

"_There_ you are," he sing-songs, his voice pure music, soothing, calming. Loki cringes back, unable to get away because of the two chairs pressed together, and all the fear and despair they had seen those first few weeks is back.

Clint steps between him and Loki.

It is not really the smartest thing he's ever done, standing there with just a knife on his person to this thing that had just casually knocked Thor down, blown all the windows out, and knocked Natasha's bullets down like flies. But he remembers how he felt when he saw Loki again, that first time after he had been controlled, and knows that Loki is getting it worse.

And, right then, if he is perfectly honest, he doesn't think anyone deserves that.

"Move aside," the man-shaped thing asks politely. "Thor, please, don't make this any worse than it needs to be."

"I don't think you get how this works," Clint says, softly, not swearing, not raising his voice.

"But I do. I'm only doing what's best for your pitiful little realm. You should thank me. Well, you will. Loki," and he smiles, "come here."

Loki makes this strangled noise, and Clint doesn't have to look to realize that it's more than just recent memories that have the god panicking.

"No," Clint answers for him.

The god-thing-Baldr, Thor had said-frowns, only slightly, and it's more the frown someone gives when something is a little off but they don't really mind all that much. He's studying Clint, as if trying to place something, and then he beams.

"You're _him_," he says, eyes lighting up like it's Christmas. "He is quite fond of you, you know. He could play at having people care about him while you were there. Did he tell you that? He told me. He's very ashamed for what he's done. He quite liked you and your little story. Wishes he had his own little family."

Clint tries not to let it bother him. Tries not to think of that particular shade of blue or the way Loki would smile at him-one of the few things he really remembers. He tries very hard not to snap and move before this guy does. The team is beginning to circle, and he knows Bruce is probably going to Hulk out in a second.

"Loki," Baldr says, his voice brooks no argument and commands in the way only a prince can, "come _here_."

Clint feels Loki start to move behind him, start to stand, and he puts a hand to the god's chest before he can step around, breaks his gaze on the fucker in front of him to look at Loki.

"Loki," he says, softly. Loki licks his lips, looks at Clint. A hand is rubbing at the skin beneath his collar. "You don't have to do this. We're here."

Loki's eyes flick to Baldr, and he flinches, and Clint turns and yells (not yelps like a little girl), and then slams into and over the couch, skids a bit. His lower back is killing him, and for a few horrible minutes he doesn't think he can move. He feels like he's on fire and as he looks up he realizes it's not just him. The whole room is a few degrees too hot and the air is swirling from the heat. Loki's stiffened entirely where he stands. He's muttering, whispering, words piling up over themselves and he's shaking. Thor is moving towards him, trying to calm his brother, a look of absolute terror on his face, and _why the fuck has Bruce not Hulked out_.

The god-thing starts to smile.

Loki points, and a single word cuts through the air. Clint can't make it out, realizes that he actually can't hear much of anything, and the room is nearly collapsing on itself. The ground suddenly rends outside, an earthquake shaking the entire building and the collar on Loki's throat shatters.

They both vanish.


	8. Chapter 7

This is a short one, but I think you guys won't mind too much.

Thank you to all of those reviewing, faving, and following. It's wonderful to see this so well-liked.

I don't own the Avengers or any characters there.

Trigger warning: abuse, torture

This story does not involve smut in any way, shape or form. It's only a little slashy at that, so if you want that, you'll need to go elsewhere. This takes place after the Avengers movie.

This entire story is already completed and edited. We have 2 more updates left. :) Remember we have two more updates left! This isn't the end. :)

**Chapter 7**

"Why the _fuck_ has no one told me Loki's back? Whose bright idea was this? He's at Central Park on a sunny afternoon, get your asses there _yesterday_." Fury barked over the comm.

"Working on it," Tony says, racing past them all, suited up, Thor already following him.

Clint grabs his bow, hops onto the helicarrier. Bruce follows shortly, just a pair of pants on. Apparently he _had_ Hulked out, but Baldr had managed to pin him down. Clint still couldn't hear very well, everything coming through layers of cotton like a bomb went off next to him (and maybe it had, as he saw the city). Steve's suited up and hops in with Natasha and they're off.

It's utter chaos. There are places where the ground is tearing itself apart, whirpools of asphalt and concrete, buildings collapsing. There's another small earthquake, making buildings that are still standing waver. The sky is a horrible blood red colour.

At least there's no Chitauri to deal with, just one incredibly pissed off Loki.

Bruce jumps off first, transforming on the way down, and Steve follows. Natasha looks at Clint for a moment, and Clint yells to the pilot to get him a clear shot at Loki. He can hear the screeching of animals in the zoo, trying to escape. Baldr is there, batting away and dodging the green fire that Loki flings at him.

"I will pin down Baldr," Thor tells them, his voice brooking no argument. "Get my brother."

"Rodger rodger," Tony says, but when he gets within Loki's vision he has to bank hard to avoid a fire ball spared for him. Loki screams when Baldr disappears again, reaching down and shoving his hands into the ground. All around the ground begins to roil, and a wall managing to slow Hulk down just long enough that Loki's gone by the time he gets there.

Clint can see the others trying to figure out how to even get close. The ground is literally ripping itself apart where Loki goes, and he remembers a story about how Loki is the source of earthquakes in the quiet part of his brain that's lining up the shot. Tony shoots a blast at him, and it knocks Loki over. Baldr vanishes, reappears, and Loki comes out of a tumble, already moving towards where Baldr is now.

"He's leading him into the city," Clint says, voice calm despite the fact they need to stop this now. Another small earthquakes shudders throughout the area.

"Drive him towards Hulk."

"Get him in the clearing and I can get him. Give me a clear shot."

"Change of plan. You heard him."

"What are you doing Clint? You saw what Iron Man's shot did. It didn't even phase him." Natasha is staring at him.

"Giving him a chance. I've knocked him over like this before, when the Chitauri were invading." He pulls an arrow out, lines it up. Explosive charge-it clearly isn't going to hurt Loki, but it had knocked him on his ass before.

"Thor, get Baldr. Drive him towards the clearing."

Thor nods, the only indicator he's even listening to them. Baldr moves to vanish again and Thor steps in and slams into him with Mjolnir, lightning sparking everywhere. Baldr tries to move around, clearly realizing what Thor is doing, but toe-to-toe, all restraints of not accidentally harming his teammates and pent-up anger combined, the god of the thunder is clearly the better fighter.

Loki, on the other hand, requires constant herding to keep him from getting to Baldr before they have him set up, and it's terrifying to watch him in motion. Captain America is having to put everything he has into each blow, and use his shield to keep from becoming puree. Hulk never even manages to get close enough to grab him or hit him, and Tony's managing to at least get him to dodge even if Loki doesn't pay attention.

Clint draws the string back to his cheek, watching.

"Incoming," he says, letting go.

Loki moves the way he expected at the sudden opening-small miracles. He catches the arrow, is throwing it aside when it explodes, creating a small blast that sends him onto his back. Thor stops playing with Baldr and smashes him in his all-too kind face, pinning him with Mjolnir. He starts to move towards his brother.

The sky loses a little of its red, and the ground stops shuddering. As the dust clears, Loki is starting to sit up again, looking confused, and a bit in pain. His skin is burned but already rippling and healing. He shakes his head, as if trying to clear it, and sees Baldr pinned underneath Thor's hammer.

Clint hits the ground running, feeling his ankles and knees creak a bit and hopes none of them give out. The others are starting to move in but Loki doesn't see them. He's trying to get his equilibrium back, trying to stand up, that rage starting to build up again, the sky darkening and animals shrieking.

"Loki!" he yells, nearly falling as the ground suddenly begins to shudder again. He hops over the lip of the crater from the explosion. Small miracles, that little earthquake had knocked Loki over again, and he's sitting on his ass blinking.

"Loki," he says, and stops in front of him, breathless and gasping. "Look at me, Loki. Fuck. You don't do small tantrums. Fuck." He gasps some more, but Loki hasn't moved to get up, those green eyes staring at Clint.

Clint holds a hand out. "Enough, Loki. It's ok. It's going to be ok. He can't control you anymore. Enough."

Loki just stares at him for a few minutes. The others are close enough they can hear-provided Loki's shrieking hadn't rendered anyone deaf, and Clint wouldn't be surprised if it had. Clint doesn't look away from that gaze, doesn't shiver even though he kind of wants to.

"Enough, Loki," he says again, voice just barely above a whisper.

Loki takes his hand.


	9. Chapter 8

This is another short one, but we're in the denouement. Tomorrow will be the last update for this story.

I do not own the Avengers or anyone therein.

Trigger warnings: abuse, torture

Thank you to everyone who reads, reviews, favourites, and alerts. I appreciate it, and I'm glad that you've enjoyed this story so much. One update after this.

**Chapter 8**

Tony, Bruce, and Clint are the ones who explain to Director Fury and Thor and Odin (and boy are the rest glad they don't have to be there for that) what had happened after Loki fell from Bifrost. A big old insanity defense, and it seems to work. No one comes crashing into the tower to take Loki away or collar him again. They do take Baldr.

Tony is grumbling about having to repair his common room yet again, and movie nights are banned unless Thor is present and accounted for. Thor has the decency to look abashed about the whole affair.

Bruce decides that he deserves a vacation after going through the three hour grill that was the meeting and goes back to India. Natasha goes with him, but it isn't for a vacation. Clint goes somewhere else, unreported, for assignment.

No one even thinks to suggest that Loki should go somewhere else. Not even Fury.

XXXXXX

Steve is making breakfast. The whole tower is quiet, though he's pretty sure that Tony stayed up all night and is locked up in his lab. He doesn't let himself worry about it. He's making broccoli fritters this morning, because he feels like mixing things up a little, and also because Pepper had dropped off a giant box of doughnuts last night and he thinks fritters go much better with doughnuts than waffles do.

"What are you making?"

Loki's voice is still hoarse, and his lips are burned and blistered slightly. He moves stiffly, as if there are aches and pains he hasn't felt in a long time kicking up again, and slumps over the breakfast bar when he sits down. He's still watching Steve over his arms though, vision slightly clearer than it had been in a while. There are dark circles under his eyes, and he looks exhausted.

Thor had told them that his brother's mind would recover quickly now that his magic was back.

"Fritters," Steve says. "Broccoli and parmesan fritters. Need something savoury to go with the doughnuts." He points to the box just in front of Loki with the spatula, and while he waits on one side of the current batch to finish, he starts to make some hot chocolate for Loki.

The god stirs a little, pushes the box open with one finger to peer in. He takes one of the glazed circles and sets it on a napkin, and licks his fingers. He doesn't start eating it though; just goes back to resting his head in his arms and watching Steve cook.

"You know, you can stay here, at the tower, if you want." Steve flips over the fritters, not looking at Loki.

Loki makes a noncommittal hum.

He drops some mini marshmallows into the chocolate and slides it over to Loki. Loki waits until his hand is gone entirely before he takes the cup, pushing himself onto his elbows so he can drink. He hasn't asked, but Steve makes him a plate of food too, nearly as much as he's going to eat.

Loki doesn't talk again, but he does stay, and they eat.

XXXXXX

Clint gets back a week later, and Steve's the one who tells him Loki's gone. Apparently left a note on the stove top for when Steve got up. No one had seen him, and Thor reported he had not gone to Asgard, or, for that matter, realm-hopped.

Clint just shrugs because he really doesn't want to keep caring about Loki, and tells himself he's glad the trickster is gone.

Steve tells him that Loki had been better-_coherent_ is the word he uses-and Clint shrugs again, drinking another shot of Tony's 'hidden' scotch.

"Good for him," he says, and Steve just gives him this weird look before he goes to go do whatever it is he does in the evenings when there's no movie or games or anything happening.

He doesn't tell Steve that Loki is probably confused and avoiding all of them because he's remembering what he did, doubting every action he'd made since leaving Asgard. Loki is scary as fuck, but he's not a monster-_my brother likes tricks, not slaughter_-and his pride and shame are probably making him want to hide. Not to mention confusion.

He'd been confused, too.

He gets on with his life, though he does like to read out on the balcony where Loki used to dance, and sometimes he finds himself trying to figure out where to go without Loki to keep an eye on. He'd gotten _used_ to him. He goes on assignments, helps with the occasional super villain that tries to destroy the city of the week, and as the days turn into weeks and then months (two months, two weeks, two days, not that he's keeping track), he's still looking up sometimes on the balcony wondering where Loki is and worrying that he jumped.


	10. Chapter 9

I do not own the Avengers or anyone therein.

This is the last chapter guys. I hope you like it.

It isn't my last story; keep an eye out, I'm in the final stages of revision and will be able to start posting another next week hopefully.

Thank you to everyone who has read, favourited, alerted, and reviewed as we went. Thank all of you for it; while the story was written, it is nothing without an audience, and you are all wonderful. Thank you for staying around for it, and until the next story, best wishes.

**Chapter 9**  
"Barton."

Clint nearly explodes out of his bed, grabbing the intruder leaned on his bed by the throat, a knife whipping out and pressing against the carotid artery. His eyes haven't really adjusted to being awake, but whoever it is goes absolutely still. He blinks the sleep out of his eyes, focuses, and sees the most brilliant cat green eyes watching him wake up.

"Loki?" he says, brain still trying to catch up to instinct.

Loki licks his lips, but doesn't speak. There's a thin line of blood where Clint's knife is pressing into his throat.

"Fuck." Clint lets go, puts the knife away. Loki relaxes, slightly, but he's still watching carefully. Clint runs his hand through his hair, making it stick up, and looks up at Loki. The god is... hovering might not be the right word, but he's nervous. Loki's eyes flick around the room, and his pulse isn't steady.

"Where the fuck did you go?" he suddenly demands, shoving Loki off the bed. The god yelps, sprawls in a heap, and starts to sit back up. Clint's out of bed and grabbing his shirt-dark green, cotton-heaves him to his feet and pins him against a wall. "Left a fucking note, nothing else, and didn't even send a goddamn postcard, what the _fuck_, Loki?"

Loki's staring at him, still too taken aback to really fight back, or push, though Clint knows that without the collar Loki could poof in a wisp of green mist if he really wanted to.

"I... did not think-"

"Yeah, fucking _right _you didn't fucking _think_. We gave you a goddamn home, didn't fucking send you back, and you just fucking _leave_. No one knew where the fuck you were. You know how much those assholes fucking worried? All I fucking heard for a _fucking week, where the fuck did you go_?" He shakes Loki, both hands gripping the shirt and blinks backs the sudden sting in his eyes. "It's been _three goddamn months_."

"Barton, please-"

"Clint, my fucking name is _Clint_, you asshole-"

"Clint!" Loki has his hands around Clint's wrists, like he would sometimes when he wanted his attention before, when he was still recovering. Clint blinks, takes a deep breath, but he doesn't let go. "I needed to think. I needed to sort things out. I didn't know..." and Loki stops, trying to put into words what he didn't know.

"You didn't know what was you and what wasn't," he says, because he remembered, and isn't it fucked up that he cares so much about the one who made him doubt himself. He sighs, rests his head on Loki's chest-tall bastard-relaxing his grip. Loki's hands are cool on his wrists. "You could have at least sent a postcard or something. Let us know you were alive."

"You... worried?"

"Of course we fucking worried!" Clint shoves Loki into the wall, letting go and pacing because he can't do this, can't look at the god right now.

"But _you_did. Even after...?"

And there it is, hanging in the air, blue light and no sense of self.

Clint swallows, tries to go still. He's shaking, and his eyes are burning and his face is wet, so he keeps his back to Loki. He can hear Loki moving behind him, but the god has the decency not to try to circle around.

"Yeah. Yeah, I did. You didn't fucking deserve all that, and hell, whatever you did, you didn't really have much left in the way of sanity." He licks his lips, and his voice is a whisper. "I missed you."

"_Why_?" Clint turns, because he has never heard Loki's voice so raw and hurt and confused. The god is staring at him, unable to comprehend, and Clint admits that he doesn't really get it either.

"Because I like having you around. Because you don't shoot fifty questions out of your mouth and zoom off on some other tangent before you get answers, because you dance or whatever the fuck that was, because you're curious even when you're this ruined wreck that barely fits together anymore." Clint pauses, Loki still clearly not comprehending. "Look. You can go. Just. Just send me a postcard sometimes, alright? You know what that is? Little note with a picture? Let me know you haven't thrown yourself off a building or jumped in traffic or whatever it is you gods do when you're committing suicide. Please."

XXXXXX

Loki did send postcards, though he apparently never looked up what they actually were based off what showed up. They usually would end up wherever Clint was sleeping, right next to the knife he kept under his pillow-small notes with curling, elegant script and sticker pictures with one of those new cameras that made them. Also usually sickeningly cute little stickers of dinosaurs and the Avengers and little cats with too big eyes. Apparently the god was fascinated with them.

He got a box, once, which had everyone looking curiously and he wondered why the hell Loki didn't just magic it in like usual. To be safe, he opened it in the kitchen with Steve and Bruce.

Tony banned boxes from Loki being opened in the kitchen when Hulk smashed the wall out.

Going up to his room, his attic, his _nest_, still trying to brush plaster and confetti and silly string off, he stopped when he heard a chuckle above him. Green eyes watched him with a smirk where Loki half-dangled out of the loft.

"Asshole," Clint said firmly, and climbed up the ladder.

"I'm not dead," Loki said, smiling, sitting up and scooting away from the edge. He had probably noticed where Clint had started pinning the notes covered in stickers, but he didn't say anything about it so Clint didn't.

"Obviously. Bruce just took out the fucking kitchen. Asshole."

Loki smiled like a cat in cream. Clint grunted, sitting down next to him. One of Loki's hands touched his wrist, soft. Clint looked at him out of the corner of his eye but didn't move his hand away. Loki staring out into the middle distance, still smiling at his prank. Clint licked his lips.

"Planning on being here long?"

"Not sure."

"Mm." Clint hesitated a second, then moved. He was planning for the cheek, but Loki turned at the sudden movement, still wary apparently, and the kiss landed on the corner of his mouth. The god's eyebrows shot up, but Clint tried playing it off, leaning against Loki and resting his head on his shoulder. His heart was thudding in his chest, but he ignored it. Played it cool. Smooth. Tony wished he was this slick.

"I suppose I can stay for a bit. I've missed Steve's cooking," Loki said, letting him play it down. They sat there for a while, comfortable silence that Clint hadn't even known he'd missed surrounding them.

It was enough.


End file.
